Leave a bone for Mardi (1986-2002)Nicknames:Mardster, Martes ZapatosLikes:Being part of whatever's going onPet-Peeves:Being bathed, clipped, or touched in any area he deemed "wrong" at that momentFavorite Toy:His sheepskin "man" (and later a sheepskin elephant)Favorite Walk:To our local elementary school where I'd let him off the leash so he could run fast and freeBest Tricks:Wiggling his cute, furry bumArrival Story:As kids we had always wanted a dog. Finally, my parents decided to get one as a "friend" to my little brother who was struggling in school. As it turns out, the dog bonded to my mom, so really Mardi just ended up being the trusted and lovable family dog. He was our pick of the litter between my aunt's male mutt (Skippy) and a purebred female Lhasa Apso. (To this day I don't know why the woman was breeding her purebred dog with my aunt's mutt...) Boy, were we naive about raising a puppy. My mom did most (all) of the work house-training him and we didn't do ANY behavior training. As a result, he was a neurotic little mess of hair and dog. He wouldn't let us brush his teeth, trim his hair or nails, or touch him anywhere that he didn't like -- he'd yelp like he was in pain if we did. (Maybe he was, it was hard to tell under all that hair.) And he'd bark and bark if anyone had physical contact with my mom.Bio:Mardi was a good family pet. He let my little brothers and my sister dress him in clothes, tie ribbons in his hair, put sunglasses on him, carry him everywhere, take his paws and "make him dance," and play with him anytime they wanted. He loved to curl up in the crook of my mom's legs when she was napping and he'd lay his little head on top of her knees. He "defended" our home with his yappy little bark and by patrolling the backyard all day long (in and out and in and out of the dog door). In April 2002, we had a "visiting veterinarian" come and put our faithful family friend of sixteen years to sleep as my mom, my dad, one of my brothers and I held him in our arms. He fought the sedative and didn't seem to think it was his time to go, which racked my mom with guilt. I told her later, though, that it would have been strange if Mardi had died any other way than fighting us as we tried to help him, just as he had every other time we tried to clip his hair from his eyes so he could see, or lift him up the stairs when his back went out. We love you, Mardi!! (I hope you're resting in peace and that you understand now we had to let you go out of love.)I've Been On Dogster Since: